


Prompt Fics

by Siobhandestele



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, Polyamory, sex ment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2016-01-29
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:46:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Siobhandestele/pseuds/Siobhandestele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A multifandom collection of tumblr Fics/prompts I've written-- I'm always happy to receive more, so feel free to hit me up!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Misguided Perceptions (Suga/Rapmon)

Namjoon knocked on the door and when he got no response, let himself into Yoongi’s studio.

Yoongi sat at his workspace, headphones clasped firmly over his ears and fingers twitching over a keyboard. Namjoon heard the muffled bass and wondered what he was working on, since it sounded unfamiliar. He stood awkwardly by the door for a while, watching Yoongi work because he knew better than to tap him on the shoulder and disturb him when he was in the zone.

He swayed a little on his feet and blinked away a few tears. Maybe it was a good idea to leave before Yoongi noticed him standing there like an idiot. Near tears and closer to being drunk than not-- it was pathetic.

Yoongi yawned loudly and stretched his hands over his head, catching namjoon out of the corner of his eye. He saved his work and pulled his headphones off before getting up and meeting Namjoon halfway as he lurched forward.

“Miss me that bad?” Yoongi asked, arms looping around Namjoon’s neck automatically as Namjoon buried his face into the crook of Yoongi’s neck and squeezed his eyes shut. He pulled in a shuddering breath. His chest felt tight and his eyes itched. 

“Hey,” Yoongi pulled back and nudged Namjoon’s head off his shoulder so he could look him in the eye. Namjoon tried to duck away but Yoongi wouldn’t let him. 

“Hey, Namjoon. What happened?” 

“Just...”

“Just?”

Namjoon’s contacts list read like a “who’s who” of Korean hip hop, but not everyone he knew was really a friend, Namjoon knew that. He'd decided to go out with a few old acquaintances anyways. Yoongi made it clear how he felt about it before namjon left-- it was a terrible idea and Namjoon would be put through the wringer around them. He wasn't wrong. 

"Namjoon?" Yoongi asked gently, hand curling around the back of his neck. 

"They were just fucking assholes, hyung, no big deal. Should have known better." He pushed away from Yoongi and looked over at the empty screen of his desktop. 

"You're done working, right? We can go home? I'm really tired. I can't wait for you tonight." 

For a brief moment, Yoongi looked like he was ready to say something, expression indignant and words half formed on his lips, before he snapped his mouth shut and wrestled his face into something more forgiving. 

"Yeah, I got as much done as I was going to. I was just fucking around with the sound levels when you came in, I'll hate myself for later." He cracked a smile and swiped his beanie off his desk, jamming it over his hair and looking at Namjoon expectantly, eyes searching and wary. "I'm good to go if you are."

Yoongi worked as hard as any idol Namjoon had ever met-- worked himself to the bone. And sometimes he bitched and complained but for the most part he treated staying up until two, three in the morning, from when the sun went down over the horizon until came back around again, after dance practices, after performances, after schedule after unforgiving schedule, as just a passing inconvenience. Namjoon thought bitterly back at the artists he had gone out for drinks with. Xitsuh complained about the ethics of hard honest work and the easy path idols took, but what would he know about treating sleep as an unnecessary commodity? 

"They were fucking assholes," Namjoon said, outburst stopping Yoongi in his tracks as he started edging towards the door.

"Seriously? I thought you done stewing in this shit." Irritation leaked into Yoongi's voice. He sucked in a breath, squared his shoulders and added, "You know, if this is going to be a thing for you, we should talk about it now." 

Namjoon pulled Yoongi's producers chair out and slumped into it, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and putting his head in his hands. It was so fucking pathetic, he just couldn't get over how Xitsuh, Charmane, Andup griped about idols who didn't deserve what they got-- who worked half as hard for twice the reward and tried to make a place for themselves in spaces they didn't belong. Namjoon would be hard pressed in believing they weren't talking about him when he was the only idol there. They were taking shots at his hard work and accomplishments, and all he could do is drink his beer, laugh at their jokes and pretend that the humiliation didn't sting. Or that he didn't file it away with all the other shit people have said about him. 

Something nudged his elbows to the side and Namjoon looked up as Yoongi straddled his lap comfortably. 

"Every moment you sit in this chair is one you're lucky to have, by the way." 

Namjoon resettled with his head on Yoongi's chest and his arms around his waist, rubbing a few stray tears into his shirt. 

"They talked shit the whole fucking time, hyung," he muttered. "About  
our work, kept saying shit like how we don't fucking deserve what we have because we're pretty and wear makeup and have major label backing--"

"About Bangtan?"

Namjoon shook his head. "About idols. I was the only one there, hyung, and they kept making these jokes-- I was just laughing there like an idiot because I didn't want to look bad-- like a bitch-- fuck, it was so fucking embarrassing." He swallowed a shuddering breath when Yoongi's fingers slid into his hair. 

"You pay too much attention to those clowns," Yoongi said. 

"They're not--"

"What? Worth your time and energy? Worth shit? Worth sitting here dribbling snot and tears over the same thing you've heard over and over again for years? Seriously, I thought you were better at handling this kind of thing than I was." 

Namjoon tried to peel himself off of Yoongi to argue with him, but Yoongi held him in, fingers pressing into the back of his head. "Hey, I don't mean it like that, ok? I'm not insulting you."

"I know." He relaxed as Yoongi eased his grip on Namjoon's skull. 

"You're holding onto 'could haves', Namjoon, and it's not a good place to be. They're never going to respect you unless you have something to offer them, because you're not them, and you know it. Stop trying to be." 

It was true, Namjoon's identity hinged on two different existences-- what was and what could have been, and he coveted both jealously. But it was the first time Yoongi, of all people, called him out on it. 

"I'm not, but--" 

"Look, I'm too fucking tired to sit through you griping about artistry and you're dead on your feet." Yoongi clambered to his feet and pulled an unresisting Namjoon up with him. He was indeed tired. 

"Wipe that snot off your face so I can kiss you and let's go home." 

Namjoon pulled a face but dragged his sleeve under his nose and leaned in for a quick kiss, letting Yoongi pull him down. Tonight was probably a squash together in Namjoon's bed night, Seokjin locked Yoongi out of their room when he wasn't home by a certain time anyways. The prospect of having Yoongi's knee digging into his back or jammed between his legs sounded so much nicer than spending the night alone, anyways.

"We don't have practice tomorrow morning, right?" Namjoon asked, wiping away the last of the tears and gathering himself up. 

"Nope. You get to help me finish this track." There was an unfinished conversation to look forward to also-- something for Namjoon to dread tomorrow. But Yoongi was right, he was probably just tired.


	2. Misguided Priorities (Suga/Rapmon)

What Yoongi didn't understand was how he ended up sitting on the couch in the dorm, swaddled in the darkness of a sleeping household, scrolling through Twitter comments and muffling his sobs with his hand. 

He knew how he got here, he'd made the trek home because it was nearing 3 am and Hoseok would kill him for falling asleep in the studio again. They didn't get to sleep in their own beds enough as it was, he claimed, Yoongi has no business being away from his when it was so close. 

What he really didn't understand was the swell of emotion. He scrolled through replies, not seeing anything through the haze of tears. Usually when he got like this he could at least recognize what bothered him but tonight it eluded him. He didn't dare try to go to bed now. When he got in these moods, he couldn't tamp down on the tears until he was all wrung out. He would only wake Seokjin up. 

Yoongi locked his phone and tossed it aside. He pulled in a shuddering breath, freezing when he heard one of the bedroom doors open and someone shuffle into the kitchen. He slid down on the couch, hoping they wouldn't see the top of his head or hear the noises he was trying to stifle. 

The water ran and Yoongi closed his eyes. He waited for-- probably Namjoon, it sounded like him-- to go back to bed. It was late, everyone needed their sleep, and Yoongi needed to keep his damn composure. 

The water stopped running but Yoongi didn't hear any shuffling. Instead, "Hey?"

He held his breath, bringing up a hand to scrub his tears away in case Namjoon found him like this. 

"Yoongi?" 

The gig was up. Yoongi finally pried his hand out of his mouth and tried to compose himself.

"Yeah?" he said, managing to keep the tremor out of his voice. 

Namjoon shuffled over, flipping a light on as he went. Yoongi blinked against the harsh brightness and squinted up at him. "Hyung, what the fuck are you doing up this late?" 

Yoongi's face was no doubt tear stained and blotchy, eyes swollen half shut from crying, snot and spit shining on his face. He felt disgusting. 

It wasn't like Namjoon was wearing more than his boxer briefs, hair flopping into his bleary eyes and face creased from his bed sheets-- a hot mess. He took one good look at Yoongi and sighed before settling down next to him on the couch. 

"C'mere." 

Yoongi slumped against Namjoon's side, feeling comfort in the weight of the arm that settled around his shoulders. Yoongi didn't say anything and Namjoon didn't ask, waiting out another fit of sobs that seized him. 

Only when his trembling subsided did Namjoon peel himself off and reach for the glass of water he left on the coffee table. He offered it to Yoongi to soothe his hiccuping. 

"I think I'm good now," Yoongi said quietly after he drained the glass. He was still thirsty. 

Namjoon took the glass from him and set it aside, but didn't pull Yoongi into another hug. 

Nothing spooked Namjoon more easily than talk about emotions or feelings, but it was nice having him here despite it, in case Yoongi wanted to talk. Not that there was anything to say, Yoongi wasn't going to mince words over something he didn't really understand. 

Silence hung heavy between them and Yoongi couldn't dislodge the heavy feeling in his chest. Wordlessly, Namjoon scooted closer and pulled Yoongi against his chest again. 

"Wanna talk about it?" Namjoon asked. 

Not really. He hugged Namjoon's waist and pressed his cheek against his chest. Now that his breath evened out and his eyes were dry, he saw things with a little more clarity. Schedules, concerts, practices, sapped his time and energy. Deadlines --some imposed by the company, some he made for himself-- loomed large over him. He grasped for artistic credibility before fame, but only one was within his reach. 

"I'm sick of being fucking useless," Yoongi muttered, surprising them both. 

There was a beat of silence. Maybe Namjoon was looking for the right thing to say, maybe he didn't really want to talk. Maybe he was just tired. 

"That's not it," Namjoon said. 

"What?" 

"That's not your problem. That's not what's going on here." He gently pushed Yoongi away so he could look at him. "You haven't come home earlier than 3am in days, you're fucking tired."

Sometimes Namjoon was dense or an idiot, but when he really looked at Yoongi, he saw right through him. 

"Lemme take you to bed, hyung. You can figure it out later." 

Yoongi thought about the mixtape file saved on his computer and how he strained to meet a deadline no one imposed on him. What the hell was he trying to prove? 

Namjoon pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Later."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugamon hurt/comfort: a saga. prompt fill for "I'm sick of being USELESS". Thanks to Merixcil for being a wonderful beta per usual, yoonseoktv for the original idea and noonagon for being a memelord. Also special shoutout to wowoashley for helping me with this as well. Thanks for reading!


	3. Four Walls (Jimin/J-Hope/Suga)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a little context, since I'm not sure if I really conveyed this in the fic or not WHO KNOWS, but jihope were a thing before Yoongi was, and they asked him to join them. Yeah.

Really, Yoongi didn't expect much for his birthday. This time he was the lucky one to have his birthday fall in the middle of promotions (these days, it seemed like all their birthdays, and holidays, and everything in between fell in the midst of promotions, but that was another thing altogether) and there wasn’t any time to make a big scene of it. Another year gone, another year ahead and he had plenty to show for it, anyways. 

He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, limbs so heavy he felt like he could sink into the mattress. The effort of checking his phone for the time seemed too great, but he didn't hear any bustling about outside his door and, when he looked, Seokjin was still a lump under his bedsheets. It had to be early. Yoongi sighed softly and let his head sink back into the pillow. For a while he let his eyelids droop half closed before he heard the door quietly open and feet pad on the carpet. He stilled, evening out his breaths and pretending he was deep asleep as if he were 12 and worried his mother would chide him for being awake. 

Above him, he heard soft puffs of breath. Fingers slipped into his hair and carded through the damaged strands. He sighed softly. 

“Yoongi. Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin whispered. Yoongi cracked open his eyes as a solid weight sunk into the other end of the mattress. All he could see was the dark cast of Jimin’s face peering down at him. With a little groan, Yoongi pulled his hand out of the warmth of his blankets and scrubbed the side of his face. He jammed a finger in the corner of his eye to dig out the crust and squinted up at Jimin. 

“What time is it?” he croaked, lifting his head to seek out the lump sitting at the end of his bed. Hoseok grinned back at him through the dark. 

“Like 4:30 something.” Hoseok nudged the shape of Yoongi’s legs under the covers. “Budge over.” Across the room, Seokjin made a little snuffling noise. 

“Quiet, hobi,” Jimin hissed as Yoongi tipped to over to let Hoseok squeeze himself between his body and the wall. 

The hair petting stopped. “Yoongi--can I--”

Wordlessly, Yoongi made room for him, pressing himself into Hoseok and letting out another sigh when Jimin wedged himself in too. Hoseok draped his arm over their bodies and pulled them in closer. There was minimal breathing space, but Yoongi liked it that way. Sometimes, around Hoseok and Jimin, he felt like he couldn't breathe. It was okay. 

“Why the fuck are we up this early?” he asked, voice hoarse. 

Hoseok’s lips moved against the back of his neck. Yoongi felt what he said more than he heard it. “Y’know can leave, if you want.”

“No, we can't,” Jimin cut in. His hands found yoongi’s and he slotted their fingers together. 

“Jiminie, what--”

“He couldn't sleep,” Hoseok’s lips curled. “He wouldn't stop kicking me in bed either.”

“Good boy.”

Hoseok nipped his neck, snorting when Yoongi jerked and Jimin squeaked in alarm for nearly getting tipped out of bed. By now, either Seokjin was awake and on the last dregs of his saintly forbearance, or he really did sleep like the dead. 

“Hobi,” Jimin hissed. “Jin-hyung is sleeping.” 

“Which we could be doing,” Yoongi said pointedly. “Go to sleep, kids, appa is tired.”

“That's weird, oh my God.” 

Ignoring both Jimin’s disgust and Hoseok’s snide little remark, he dropped his head on the nape of Jimin’s neck and started to measure out his breathing. The line of tension in Jimin’s shoulders loosened up as Yoongi relaxed, and Hoseok stopped breathing so loudly in his ear.

“Yoongi?” Jimin’s voice, barely a breath. 

“Hmm?”

“We wanted to tell you what we’re doing. For your birthday, I mean.” 

Oh. That. Before he could open his mouth, Hoseok slipped his arm around Yoongi’s waist and pulled him in close. Like it were the most natural thing in the world, Jimin adjusted himself around Yoongi again, turning over and pressing in close. Breath ghosted over his mouth and the back of his neck. Jimin had the courtesy of sucking on a mint to ward off morning breath. Hoseok, he was glad he couldn't smell. 

“Don't say no.” Hoseok's arm was tight around him. 

“Hobi, what--”

“Move in with us,” Jimin said hastily, slipping his fingers around Yoongi’s wrist again. “I couldn't sleep because-- neither of us could sleep, hyung. It wasn't enough, y’know? Without you.” 

Not enough for either of them without him. Yoongi swallowed hard. “So you're kicking Tae out?”

It shouldn't have been that big of a deal, to move from one room in the dorm to the other. It wasn't like a relationship his friends would talk about, where learning to live together was the true test of their relationship. They already lived together. They already shared everything. 

But, if he really thought about it, the true test was himself. The true test was when he ached to be a part of a perfectly complete relationship and they accepted him into the fold, making him the third half of something for a long time he thought he had no right to be a part of. The true test was when both of them saw what Yoongi didn't understand want to understand for himself, and instead of rejecting him they made him feel at home. 

Hoseok liked to call Yoongi out for being a sap when he was tired. Maybe he was right. 

“Tae sleeps with Monnie and jungkook half the time anyways,” Hoseok said. “Listen, don't say no.”

He wouldn't. “I won't.”

“So--yes?” Jimin’s voice quavered, just a little. 

“Please.” Yoongi wished he could be even closer to them, but Jimin and Hoseok already closed all the distance there was to close. “I want--” 

“We’ll move everything tomorrow,” Hoseok muttered, “after practice.”

“We’ll push the mattresses together.” Jimin nuzzled against Yoongi’s neck, hair tickling his mouth. “Hyung, you're so warm. Happy birthday.”

Instead of speaking, Yoongi squeezed his hand. He felt Hoseok press a soft, feather-light kiss onto the back of his neck. 

“Thank you,” Hoseok murmured into his ear. 

They were good to him. They were perfect, and Yoongi felt his eyes droop as the tension slacked from their bodies, pressed so closely against his. 

“Sure, Hobi.”


	4. Verdant (Suga/Woozi)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt: "here's a random cross over pairing, Woozi and Suga. I have nothing to associate it with lmao". This was meant to be platonic but read it in whatever way you choose tbh

“It's green.” 

Yoongi turns around, one earbud stuffed in his ear and the second hooked around his other ear, which swings as he looks back. 

“What? Woozi-ssi?” 

It takes a moment for Yoongi to remind himself that Woozi can exist independent of pink hair--like any idol his hair is mercy to the mercurial whims of stylists--because he has to do a quick double take when he looks at him. All he knows about the kid is what he's seen online and brief sightings backstage at Music Core when their schedules aligned. It feels nice, Yoongi has to admit, not to look up at someone for once. 

“It's green,” Woozi repeats, brows scrunching together and voice a little less firm. Yoongi smiles slightly, pushing a hand through his green hair. Not even officially into their comeback-- they were backstage, waiting for their turn to perform-- and he we already due for a touch up. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi chuckles. “And you’re blond. Keeping with a theme here, kid?”

Regret instantly settles deep in the pit of his stomach when Woozi frowns at him. Once, Namjoon had pulled Yoongi aside and told him that no offense, but his attitude was kind of off putting and he would have trouble making friends in the industry when he was about as pleasant to talk to as their manager in the morning. 

“No,” Woozi says. Then, with a cheeky little smirk, slow to bloom, almost like he's holding a secret, “but I think next comeback I'll do green better than you, Suga-sunbaenim.”

Yoongi can't help it, he laughs.


	5. Body Heat (J-hope/Rapmon)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was namseok being really intimate and cute in public so I just kinda. Yeah. Namseok is bloody fuckin difficult to write don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. This is just /waves hand vaguely. It could be canonverse? Could be anything idk.

For all the shit Namjoon gave Yoongi for being all over Seokjin when normally he had a personal space bubble equivalent to a military no-fly zone, he just couldn't peel himself away from Hoseok. 

“Namjoon,” Hoseok chided gently, pushing on Namjoon’s shoulder, “we’re in public.”

“I don't have time for shame." Namjoon clung harder to Hoseok’s waist, burying his face in his scarf-clad neck. He smelled warm, like clean laundry and hazelnut coffee. They weren't in public, not really, just sitting in a little resting spot by the Han river. Hoseok liked to come here because watching the river flow calmed him, put him back into balance. Namjoon used to like coming here to be alone with his thoughts. Now, he came because of Hoseok.

Namjoon sighed softly, nose skimming over a patch of bare skin along his neck. Hoseok recoiled, knocking Namjoon’s off his shoulder. 

“Your nose is cold,” he said indignantly, brining a hand up to his neck as if Namjoon’s nose (which felt like it was about to fall off, calling to mind images of the Sphinx except with his face on it) burned him. With his lips pressed into a flat line, Namjoon pulled his face mask back up to cover his face and slouched, chin tucked into his chest and mitten-clad hands shoved under his armpits. 

“You're an asshole,” Namjoon muttered gruffly. He didn't bother to smother the smirk playing at his lips, since the mask covered his mouth. He glanced at Hoseok sidelong, seeing the quick flicker of guilt on his face. 

Hoseok met his eyes. “You're not actually offended.” It wasn't a question. 

“No.” Namjoon slid closer to Hoseok on the bench. “But I am fucking cold.” 

Hoseok, face red and chapped from the cold, looking a little more elfin than he had any right to, scoffed. But he held up his arm for Namjoon to scoot under, and didn't complain when Namjoon shoved his hands in under his jacket.   
He had bad circulation in his hands-- he needed Hoseok’s body heat more than Hoseok needed it. 

“Better?” 

“Much.”

“I’m gonna tell Yoongi that you couldn't get your hands off me.” 

“I’ll tell Jimin you stole his headphones.” 

Namjoon looked up at Hoseok, chin propped against his chest. Hoseok quirked a brow. “You won't do that, Joon.” 

No, he wouldn't. He'd seen enough people on the wrong end of Hoseok’s wrath to know better than to incur it. Namjoon tucked his face back against Hoseok’s chest, the fur lining of his jacket tickling his nose when he breathed. He felt warmer like this, and Hoseok seemed to relax as their breaths matched up. 

Eventually, Namjoon looked up at him again. “Ready to go home?” 

Hoseok pushed his head back down against his chest. “Not yet.” And that was that.


	6. Ring my bell (start my engine) (Jungkook/V)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I found this in the depths of my document files, half finished from like 6 months ago, so I slap dashed an ending to it and called it a day. Half done is better than not posted at all, right??

Jeongguk showed up for every date in a different car, and Taehyung was pretty sure he was in love. He wasn’t materialistic, not really, but no one could deny the appeal of feeling the engine of a porche 911 or a Shelby Mustang make his butt vibrate in its seat. It was hot-- it almost made the man behind the wheel an afterthought. 

“Jeongguk, how much did you pay for this one?”

They were at a stop light and Jeongguk’s tattooed forearm rested on the rim of the steering wheel. He glanced over, eyebrow piercing glinting in the dull cast of streetlights. “Why?”

“I wanna drive it.”

“Nope.”

“I’m a great driver! I get my safe driving bonus every three months.” 

Jeongguk laughed, a little forced. “I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

Taehyung settled deep in his seat as the light turned green, and Jeongguk settled his eyes back on the road. Was he joking? Maybe. He didn’t think he could really trust himself behind the wheel of a car like this-- all sleek muscle and a great paint job. Comparisons could be drawn between the steed and the rider but Taehyung didn’t want to go there.

They were heading down a different road tonight. Usually, Jeongguk drove him home from their dates, but Taehyung had summoned all of his charm to canoodle Jeongguk into showing him the garage. He was in the business of bringing old cars back to life and Taehyung wanted to see where he did it. 

 

The engine comfortably filled the silence between them. Taehyung skimmed his fingers over the leather seat and eyed the detailing on the dash. This car was an epitome of classic luxury. He could see movie stars and business moguls alike behind the wheel. 

“What’s this car?” Taehyung asked, feeling out the stitching in the seat.

“1978 Astin Martin V8,” Jeongguk said, a touch of pride in his voice. “We fixed this one up recently. Yoongi hyung and I nearly duked it out over who got to keep it, but I snagged an old Jaguar on auction for him and he let this one go. He’s a sucker for those.”

Taehyung was pretty sure he’d be a sucker for one of those, too. “How long did it take to restore?”

“A while, I guess. Almost a month. It didn’t need much work, but it was on the back burner for a while. We got a couple custom jobs this month.”

Taehyung could ask Jeongguk to delve into the nuts and bolts of his work, but it would go over his head anyways, and Jeongguk seemed like the type who liked to leave work (but not the cars) at work. However, he didn’t miss the way Jeongguk perked up at his interest, or how he rattled off car years, makes and models. 

“The car suits you, I think,” Taehyung said. 

Jeongguk glanced over at him briefly as he drove through a collection of industrial garages and parked in front of the one that had Bulletproof Boyscouts painted over the garage opening. Jeongguk killed the engine.

“I like the sign,” Taehyung said. The artwork was reminiscent of the elaborate decals on hotrods. 

“I painted it,” Jeongguk said. 

Jeongguk got out to open up the garage and Taehyung spent another moment in the car, but the allure of seeing more cars outweighed his desire to remain in this one.

Jeongguk heaved the big garage door open as Taehyung got out of the car, and he squinted against the bright lights when Jeongguk flipped them on, taking in the breadth of the place. There were a few cars taking up space in various states of disrepair but they all still looked like they the little tin cars that took up his shelf space when he was a kid.

There was a car in the corner that looked like it was ready to be sold off, the new red paint gleaming and the hubcaps buffed. He peeled away to get a closer look, sticking his head through the open window to get a closer look at the interior. It smelled like leather and fresh paint. 

Hands settled on his hips and he turned around to face Jeongguk, taking in the small quirk to his lips.

“Nice, huh?” Jeongguk said, an alluring glint to his eyes. 

Taehyung snorted and leaned in to kiss his smirking mouth. Maybe he was too abrupt, maybe they weren’t at that point yet, but Jeongguk lifted his hand up to his cheek and deepened the kiss all the same, backing him up against the car. 

The little indignant noise that tore from his lips when Jeongguk pulled away was mortifying, but the reaction it pulled out of Jeongguk was more than worth it. He rested one hand on Taehyung’s hip and the other tangled up in his hair, pulling his face closer. Their breaths intermingled were a reprise of tonight’s Italian dinner, but Taehyung didn’t mind. 

“This is romantic, isn’t it?” He said offhandedly when they parted again. “We’re all alone, in a garage, your dick is pressing against my thigh. This is a high school wet dream in the works.”

Jeongguk pulled a face and backed off from him. “You’re weird.”

There was no use beating around the bush, really. Taehyung knew what he wanted, and Jeongguk was open to making clear what he wanted every step of the way. Five dates in, Taehyung still didn’t know what Jeongguk’s favorite TV show was or what set him off, but he sure as hell knew that Jeongguk was really pursuing something with him if they were in his beloved garage, the inner sanctum. For Taehyung, that was enough. And the prospect of car sex was more appealing than anything else he could think of. 

“Does anyone else come here around this time?”

It took a moment for Jeongguk to piece together what he meant, but he caught on quick enough. “You’re absolutely sure?” 

“I mean I was asking you the question he--” 

Swiftly, Jeongguk cut him off with his mouth, hand resting on his waist again. Taehyung rolled his head to the side as he kissed down from his mouth to his neck and sucking, heating up every inch of skin he touched along the way.

“Exhibitionism kink?” Taehyung quipped. 

“No,” Jeongguk said against spit-slick skin. “No one else comes down here at night.” 

That was all Taehyung needed to buck against him, relishing in the way Jeongguk tensed. He looped his arms around his neck and relaxed into him

“That’s nice,” Taehyung said with a little hum as Jeongguk started to kiss up his neck again. Hands found their way under his shirt, tentatively working their way up. Fingers skated across his abdomen and ribcage. 

“It’s okay, you can touch me,” he assured him. 

Jeongguk tugged Taehyung’s shirt off and he lifted his arms over his head to speed things along. A little growl from Jeongguk made his skin prickle and he felt the chill air buffeting the wet spots on his neck, doing little to bring down his overall body temperature. He was burning up.

Jeongguk drew back to take a good, long look at him. Taehyung squirmed under the scrutiny of his half-lidded eyes.

“You’re ok with this?” Jeongguk asked. 

"Absolutely." 

Jeongguk grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm always happy to receive prompts at SiobhanDeStele on tumblr, thanks for reading!


End file.
